


You've Been Hit By A Smooth Criminal

by reliquiaen



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4557687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reliquiaen/pseuds/reliquiaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: “You found me hanging by my fingertips from your window and i don’t want to tell you i was trying to rob you but idk how else to explain this and i don’t want to go to jail and also you’re kind of cute we should make out when i’m not clinging onto your window ledge for my life.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Been Hit By A Smooth Criminal

**Author's Note:**

> Unlike the song, no one dies.

So honestly, she was making more noise than she had initially planned. That said, all her plans for this evening had gone horribly wrong from the moment she left her apartment and really it shouldn’t be surprising her anymore that things kept spiralling out of control. And yet somehow Skye still managed to feel immensely disappointed in herself as she struggled to gain purchase on the rough stone façade of the building.

Because yes, she was currently hanging by her growing-ever-more-numb-by-the-second fingertips alarmingly high off the ground and her shoes had zero grip on the soles and she didn’t seem to be able to find anywhere to push off of. And this was totally punishment, she’d already decided that. When her initial target for the evening’s ‘I bet you’re not game enough to rob someone in that fancy building downtown that finished construction a month ago’ was foiled by a rather large dog that chased her onto the balcony she’d known this could only end badly. Living up to her expectations gloriously, the dog (it was more of a hellhound and she’d stick to that story on pain of death) had followed her – growling – onto the balcony leaving her nowhere to go but over the railing. Which naturally resulted in her nearly tripping to her demise twice, slipping off the railing and freefalling for a whole one story before flailing limbs caught a pipe of some kind and now here she is, hanging for dear life.

Thankfully the dog had stopped barking after her about five minutes ago. Unfortunately, her upper body strength appeared to be inadequate for the task of saving herself from the gooey end staring up at her from the pavement (still three floors) below. They’d be scraping her off the footpath in the morning wondering what she’d been doing, how this had happened when her blood alcohol was nearly nil and why she was dressed so suspiciously in skin tight black clothing. And well the clothes had just been for detail. It had seemed appropriate at the time.

She kicked the toe of her shoe pointlessly at the wall and sighed. Again, she tried to hook her arm over the window sill, figuring that if she could at least get her elbow up there she’d have better leverage. But no such luck. She’d managed to get from the pipe to the window and no further. Something she deemed an embarrassment.

“This was stupid,” she grumbled into the stone. “I hate Hunter so much. And I hate you too gravity!” She called the last bit at the pavement wishing physics would take a break for ten seconds so she could haul herself up. “You smug bastard.”

It was a painful ten seconds later that something happened. This particular something being the window above her sliding open the tiniest of cracks. A small face peered at her, eyes blinking a little blearily against the streetlight behind her.

“Oh,” muttered the person in an equally small voice. The window slipped open a bit further and Skye could see the face properly then. The young woman, not much older than herself, but dressed in what was clearly sleeping attire (the loose fitting shirt had an adorable cat printed on the front proclaiming something about a guy called Schrodinger) and with tousled hair… she just kept staring at Skye looking perplexed.

And alright, she was kind of cute so Skye momentarily forgot she was hanging by her fingertips. But then she felt her palm slide sideways a trifle and she remembered what was going on. Foiled burglary. Three storey drop. Certain death.

“Not to be a bother,” she huffed. “But is there any chance you’d give me a hand up?”

The woman blinked again, obviously returning to the here and now. “Oh,” she whispered again. “Yes, right. Of course.”

Goddamn. She had an English accent easily as adorable as her face. Typical luck, as far as Skye was concerned. Which at the moment… yeah not so much. She was more worried about the whole dying thing.

For a good long second, the woman dithered, her hands darting to and fro as if she couldn’t quite decide what to do with them. And maybe she couldn’t. In her place (Skye had to admit) she wouldn’t have a clue what to do.

In the end though, the woman settled for reaching over the window sill and grabbing Skye by her arms. Then – Skye was sure – she heard her count to three under her breath. That would have been cause for a teasing comment and maybe a bit of laughter, except then the woman was hauling at her and Skye kicked at the wall again, feet scrabbling.

It took a little bit of pulling on the woman’s part (and a bit of panic on Skye’s as she was nearly dropped) but then she was tumbling over the sill and sprawling out on the lemon scented carpet on the other side. And, she noted with a mix of amusement and horror, the woman ended up beneath her. Skye propped herself up on her palms, elbows wobbling and clearly ready to do nothing for an extended period. She grinned a little crookedly and puffed hair out of her face.

“Well now, this is entirely indecent,” she quipped.

The woman blushed, just slightly, almost Skye wasn’t sure it had even happened. But the way her fingers reached up to dance awkwardly across Skye’s arms made her certain. With a long sigh, Skye flopped sideways off her, landing on her back and staring up at what she assumed were constellations on the ceiling. Her saviour still hadn’t said a word.

“Thank you for completely saving my life,” she murmured hoping she didn’t sound joking that time when she was being utterly sincere. “What the hell made you look out the window?”

The woman didn’t answer straight away so Skye rolled her head around to look at her and was surprised to find herself being examined… Or maybe that wasn’t quite the right word. There was something inexplicable in the woman’s eyes though and it made Skye tingle. Maybe she knew Skye was a would-be-burglar… like a sixth sense. She had an almost uncontrollable urge then to bail as fast as her feet could carry her.

But then, “I thought I heard someone accuse gravity of being a bastard…?” the woman mused, sounding equal parts confused and as if she found the whole thing hilarious.

“Oh yeah, I did,” Skye admitted. “Stupid physics trying to kill me.”

“Physics doesn’t work that way,” the woman hastily assured her. “I promise.”

She laughed. “Whatever you say. I’m Skye by the way.”

Pause. “Jemma.”

“Sorry for…” she flicked her fingers at the still open window, “that. Totally wasn’t my intention to be lying on your… bedroom floor.” Skye’s eyes flashed around the room then, just realising she had no idea what her surrounds looked like beyond the stars on the ceiling. A freestanding closet, a desk with orderly notebooks and a laptop, an office chair (which, wow) and a bed; so yes, definitely a bedroom.

Jemma cleared her throat. “If I may… What _was_ your intention?”

 _Oh damn_. “Pull ups,” she explained casually. “Obviously. Why else would I be hanging from a window sill?”

“On the third floor?” Jemma asked dubiously. “At a stranger’s window and with no safety net?”

“Living on the wild side, yeah?”

“Right.”

Skye considered the fact that Jemma was still laying on the floor beside her a remarkable feat given how the rest of her evening had progressed. Highly unusual.

“Thank you,” she whispered again for lack of anything else to say.

This time Jemma glanced over at her and muttered, “You’re welcome,” in reply.

Skye nodded gently. “So are you like… a teacher or something?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Nobody’s told me something science-y like that since tenth grade,” she confessed. “Just a guess.”

“I’m a vet, actually.”

“That’s awesome. Do you have pets? I always wanted a cat, but never lived in one place long enough and my current roommate is unfortunately allergic.” _Wow, overshare much, Skye_.

She could practically feel the amusement radiating off Jemma at this point. And she smiled this cute little smile. “I do have a cat. Her name’s Marie. Please tell me you’re not a personal trainer of some sort?”

Oh and she had a sense of humour. _Be still my beating heart_. “No,” Skye laughed. “IT specialist by day, aspiring blog journalist by night. Taker of dumb dares twenty-four-seven.”

“What a busy life you lead.”

Skye grinned. “How about I make time in my super busy schedule and we have dinner sometime. You can tell me all about how physics actually doesn’t hold personal grudges and stories about fluffy kittens.”

“A date?”

She thought either the tone was a very good thing or a disaster waiting to happen. “Yeah, if you want.”

There was a moment of prolonged quiet. “Only if you promise to tell me the real reason I had to pull you into my apartment at ten thirty.”

Skye’s smile widened improbably. “You have a deal, Miss Jemma.”

“Simmons.”

“Johnson.”

For a little while longer they just lay there on the floor watching either other through the darkness. “You can’t stay here,” Jemma told her. “First date etiquette and all that.”

“Of course,” Skye agreed. “No, I’m a proper girl, I get it. I’m just not sure my arms will work to get me up.”

Jemma laughed, a delightful sound that Skye was looking forward to maybe hearing more of. She rolled to her feet and extended a hand to haul Skye to hers. She waved her arms bonelessly to make her point.

“So where’s your door?” Skye wondered.

“Oh, you’re not going back out the way you came in?”

“I think I might take the stairs this time, thank you anyway.”

Still smiling, Jemma lead her out of the bedroom and down a hallway to the rest of the apartment. On her way out the bedroom door, Skye snatched Jemma’s phone off the desk, punching her number in and texting herself as she walked. It struck her then as mildly unusual that she was seeing all the rooms backwards.

They paused at the front door, exchanging quiet smiles. “Sorry again,” Skye told her. “That was… weird.”

“A little.”

Skye arched a brow. “Are you telling me you’ve met someone in a stranger situation?”

Jemma’s smile took on a sort of devilish light then. “Call me and I’ll tell you on our date.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, handing Jemma’s phone back. That got a curious look. “I will.”

“How…?”

Skye winked. “Trade secret.” She backed away from the door. “Keep it handy. I’ll call in the morning.”

“Don’t fall through anyone else’s window on your way home.”


End file.
